“They look like caterpillars.”
The young man who was, I thought, supposed to be giving me a haircut was looking at my face in horror.
We were in my daughter’s London flat and he’d been booked to do her hair. Since she was still in hospital, I thought I could do with a cut and maybe a bit of color. But I was sitting at her table, so there was no mirror that could verify the presence of even a single member of the Lepidoptera family, let alone multiples.
I’d just started to get that creepy-crawly feeling—you know, the one you get when you see a spider and then can’t find it again—when he touched my eyebrow. “Do not worry. I will fix. It will be fast.”
It was not fast. In fact, it took forever while he happily shaped and plucked and even colored. I tried to explain that…
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